She grinned. “I’m game, but you have to let me do the jungle call some of the time.”
“Deal.” He pointed at the sketch she’d made of the weapon. “How long again?”
“Probably three to four feet, but nobody is certain.”
He pondered that for a moment. “But the longer it gets, the slower it would swing, and you don’t want to be sluggish in close combat.”
“True, but have you seen some of the weapons they’ve unearthed from the Viking era? The Maya warriors probably had muscles upon muscles.”
“Of course, manly men. Reminds you of me, right?”
She laughed. “Anything else you need from me, superstud?”
He just grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m still thinking about a loincloth bikini …”
“I meant for note-taking purposes, Parker.”
He glanced down at his field notebook, flipping back through the last few pages. “I don’t think so. I listed all the items you rattled off and your answers to my questions.” He flipped another page and then stopped, frowning toward Daisy.
“There is one other thing,” he said in a quieter voice.
“What?” Angélica whispered, glancing at Daisy, who wassketching away.
“What’skey-me?”
She turned back to Quint. “What’s what?”
“K-e-y-m-e,” he spelled out.
“I have no idea. Why?”
He leaned closer and quietly told her about the exchange he’d had with Daisy prior to the discovery of the cache.
“What does that mean? Death is smeared all over you?” she asked, recoiling from a wasp that hovered by her head for a moment to check her out. She shooed it away. “Like covered in bug guts type of smear?”
His forehead lined. “That’s not the important part.”
“Uh, I think it is. Nobody wants to be smeared with death. That just elicits all sorts of horror-movie images.”
“I’m more concerned about what Daisy meant when she said that there are too many whispers here and called mekey-me?” He gently touched her arm. “Did your mom ever use that as a nickname? Or did she know someone by that name?”
Angélica stared down at his hand for a moment while waiting for the sudden tightness in her throat to ease. Would she ever fully get past her mother’s death? So many years had passed, yet … She sighed. Would the time ever come when thinking about her mom didn’t spur a twinge of heartache?
She looked over at Daisy. “You think she was channeling my mom again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It happened before, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened again.”
“Could you actually see my mom this time?” She turned back to him.
He shook his head. “I only saw Daisy.”
“Was there a bright or blurry aura surrounding her?” Angélica had wondered if she’d see any sort of ethereal signs of her mom in advance if Marianne ever chose to visit her again.
“No.”
“A wispy, ghostly form floating nearby?”
“Only Daisy with her eyes closed.”
